


Sweet Dreams

by Petra



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: The rules of dreams are not the rules of reality.





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotebookishType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotebookishType/gifts).



Leia's mouth is soft and inviting. Her hands are small and firm, one tangling in Luke's hair, pulling him just where she wants him, holding him so she can kiss him hard, the other down the back of his trousers, easing them off as if they do this every day. Which they don't, which they haven't in days--weeks--months, because--

Luke breaks off the kiss and stares at her, so close, so familiar. "We can't," he says. His mouth tastes like hers for the first time in too long and his chest hurts with missing her.

"I'm dreaming, and it doesn't matter what I do in dreams," she says, her eyes bright and sure as ever.

He doesn't trust dreams the way she does. The Force doesn't leave him alone just because he falls asleep. This might be a vision of some kind. None of Yoda's warnings about the Dark Side were about this, but how could they have been? Even the worst of the cave wasn't dark enough to grab his ass and grind against him in full knowledge that the dream-woman holding him is his sister.

None of that knowledge stops Luke's heart from pounding in his ears, whatever this is. He sighs into Leia's mouth and lets her do what she wants, the way he'd let her before they knew, the way he would still let her if she wasn't asleep in Han's arms somewhere. It must be a dream, because their clothing melts away, and real clothing doesn't do that.

There's no point feeling guilty over a dream. Luke runs his hands down her back for the sensation and the data-stream both, the softness over muscle and the precise awareness of how much power Leia carries in every movement, from the smallest to the largest. "I love you so much I can't think," he says.

"You don't have to think." She wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him again. "Just love me, and let me love you."

He doesn't know where the bed comes from. It's not one he recognizes from any hotel or holo, too soft, too broad, too tall to be familiar, but that doesn't matter when all he wants from it is a place to lie with her, somewhere he can get the right angle to circle his fingers against her and make her eyes close in pleasure. His new hand knows the patterns she likes best. Someday he might wipe its memory. "You're so beautiful."

Her mouth twists. "Kiss me."

"I want to do everything with you." Luke kisses her, then nuzzles her breasts. There's a lump in his throat. "Everything, I mean it. If a dream lasted long enough--"

She puts her hand over his mouth. "I want you to make me come. Hard. All right?"

Luke nods and kisses her palm, swallowing everything he'd once thought they could have. Those what-ifs are so far away they're mirages guttering in the distance--boyish dreams about weddings, a family that looks nothing like the family they have, children with her eyes. She's perfect, but not for him.

Leia pats his cheek and kneels over him, straddling his hips. "You're so sweet."

He's heard that enough to know it's not always a compliment. "Did you want me to argue?"

"I get more than enough of that from Han. No, just--" she eases down onto his erection with a sigh.

Luke tightens his flesh hand into a fist, thinking of wiring patterns in X-wing blasters and holding onto his composure instead of letting himself enjoy the slick, tight feel of her body as much as he wants to. It's been too long and he wants too much and he's afraid he'll wake up, afraid he'll disappoint her. He strokes her thigh with one hand and teases her with the other, focusing on the rhythms she likes.

Leia shivers around him. "Oh, that's good. Are you going to start breathing again soon?"

He laughs and arches up into her next thrust, getting her to moan for him. "If you insist."

"Mm, please." Her muscles clench around him deliciously and he can't hold back a groan, can't hold back anything.

"Slow down," he says, begs, as if she ever would.

She grins at him and rolls her hips faster, urging him on. "Keep up."

He wants her forever. He's going to be lucky if he can have her for five minutes, the way they're going, with time ebbing and flowing the way it sometimes does in dreams. Leia's fingers circle his wrist like the most delicate binders in the galaxy, as if he wants to be doing anything but touching her slick curls, as if he'd ever abandon her. "More?" Luke asks.

"A little faster," and she's showing him precisely what she wants, giving him no time to feel fumble-fingered, until she throws her head back and cries out, louder than he's ever heard her, as her muscles tense in orgasm. He's half a breath behind her, as desperate and overheated--

\--And awake, sure someone had just called his name, though Leia hadn't said it in the dream.

His pants are a mess, but since he has the last images of the dream still in his mind, he's not surprised.

Someone says, "Luke?" again. Leia's voice, definitely. It echoes off of whatever's around him. Huge trees. Endor. It's just past dawn and maybe someone is awake, somewhere, but no one has stirred near him. The scent of last night's campfires and party is everywhere. He's dazed, exhausted, and if he wasn't in the middle of a camp of victorious rebels and drunken Ewoks he might worry.

"I'm over here." He sits up, wishing his clothes weren't kilometers away. It's going to be an uncomfortable walk.

Leia finds him, frowning, and crouches next to his bedroll. "Did you dream of me last night?" she asks quietly. Her cheeks are flushed.

Luke blushes, but if that was a shared dream, then she was at least as enthusiastic in it as he was. "If you want to call five minutes ago last night."

It's not fair that someone taught her how to keep herself from having facial expressions and she has never had the time or the inclination to teach him. "All right. Me, too." She presses her lips together. "Well, if it happens again--"

"I won't let it," he says quickly.

"I was going to say, what happens in dreams has nothing to do with the rest of our lives. Does it?"

He's aching for her touch as badly as if he's just had her pressed against him. The only way to have any semblance of that release again is to say, "Dreams have nothing to do with the rest of our lives, no, you're right."

She nods shallowly and leaves as if she hasn't noticed what a wreck his trousers are.

It's a simple, foolish lie, but it's the only way they can still have a piece of what they'd had before the truth existed between them. He'd rather have her in their dreams, which aren't entirely dreams, than not at all.


End file.
